


BorrowerTale

by Lnzy1



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cinnamon Roll Papyrus, Frisk is a Borrower, Hurt/Comfort, Misconceptions abound, Monsters are free, Other, Post pacifist, Protective Sans, Someone gives this kid a cookie please, Stop it sans, Yes I said Beans, coworkers are jerks, human beans, living on the surface, marshmallows and french fries..., tiny!Frisk, you're scaring the smol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lnzy1/pseuds/Lnzy1
Summary: Frisk is eager to live up to his father's image of what it means to be a Borrower. But that eagerness leads to Frisk becoming lost with no knowledge on how to find his folks again. With all sorts of dangers surrounding the small child, Frisk has no choice but to find a way to survive in the first house they find. And wouldn't you know it? This house is full of Monsters. And didn't you know? Monsters eat Borrowers.





	1. It's not scary, it's an adventure!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! This is my first dive into Undertale fics and I loved the idea of a Borrower AU. This is currently unedited so be warned, spelling and grammar errors abound. And as this is my first story posted to AO3, I have't a clue how to format anything. Again, my apologies if things get wonky. 
> 
> I decided to keep Frisk genderless, but I may mess up the pronouns at some point, so I apologize in advance if you catch one. If you are at all familiar with the Borrower novels or any of the movies, you will know that Borrowers refer to Human beings as Human BEANS. Roald Dahl did something similar in his story, The BFG. 
> 
> In this AU, the Monsters were freed from the Underground several years prior to the events of this story. However, the exact circumstances of how this came to be is not a plot point or even relevant to this story. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Don’t let go of my hand, okay, sweetie?”

The smaller hand tightened their grip on their mother’s fingers, giving her a small nod. The pack fell heavy against their back, but they did not complain about the weight. They had to be quiet and careful and the child knew their mother and father were scared. Despite the encouraging smiles and reassuring nothings they whispered to them, they could see they were worried. The forced smiles and the cracking of their voices betrayed the nervousness. But Frisk could not fully appreciate their parents emotions at that moment. They knew that they should be scared, but they had decided long ago not to feel afraid. To them, this wasn’t something scary... 

...this was an adventure.

However, Nornan and Anallie Brittle knew what kind of world awaited them. It was no small task they prepared to undertake. They were going to move houses. Not because they wanted to, but because it was necessary. The three of them were not human, though they shared very similar appearances. Two arms, two legs, two eyes, a nose, and ten wiggly toes and fingers. No, they were not Human Beans. They were Borrowers. Small people who occupied the corners and crevasses of the homes of the larger folk. While it was true that Borrowers relied upon Human Beans as sources for shelter and food, it was a shadow world. Humans could never know that the Borrowers were in their home. Else they kill them. Or squish them. Or seal them in jars as curiosities or pets. 

Do not allow yourself to be seen. The first rule of borrowing. Any Borrower that was seen or caught was a dead Borrower. 

Frisk’s father, Nornan was the tallest of them at five and a half inches and their mother just above five. Frisk had just cleared three and a half inches when he turned eight a few weeks prior. While out borrowing for ingredients for a birthday dinner, Nornan had over heard the Human beans discussing something. He listened in on their conversation, hidden behind the loose electrical socket by the toaster that hid one of their many tunnels. The Humans sounded angry and they spoke loudly and at length. That was how the Borrowers of the house learned that the Human Beans were moving. 

 

.................

 

“Moving? Moving where? Why?” Anallie had asked as she stirred the contents of a thimble placed above a tea light candle. “When? How long do we have?”

“I heard the Father Bean say November 15,” Nornan said. “They started packing already.”

Anallie gaped at her husband, her cooking momentarily forgotten. “B-but...that’s just around the corner! That’s not enough time.”

“We need to start getting ready as soon as possible. After dinner, I’m going back out to get some more things. We’ll need to stock pile food in case the Human Beans clear out before we’re ready.”

Anallie tottered about the kitchen in a nervous fit. “We could just stay and wait for another family of Beans to come. The house never sits empty for long. We did it last time. If we can borrow enough food to last a few...”

“Anallie, stop. We stayed because it was too dangerous for us to go with you pregnant,” Nornan replied, stepping up to his wife and placing his hands on her waist, pulling her to him and giving her forehead a small kiss. “You were in no condition to move.”

“And it turned out alright!” Anallie pulled away from her husband, walking back to her cooking. “We can do it again. It should be easier now that I can actually see my feet! Ha ha.”

“Things are different, love,” Nornan remark, sitting heavily in a chair at the table. He ran a gloved hand through his brown hair. He considered his words carefully, removing his gloves and setting them in a pile next to him on the table. “Monsters are moving into the neighborhood. That’s why the Beans are leaving.”

Anallie froze mid stir and turned to stare at Nornan with true fear in her eyes. “Monsters..?”

“M’fraid so, dear,” he replied, feeling as though he had swallowed a rock as a ball of fear and nerves seem to settle in his belly. “When the Beans move, we go with them. To wherever they go.”

The kitchen fell deathly silent and Anallie went back to the bubbling thimble, pulling it off the fire and setting it aside. She stared at the flickering flame, letting the gravity of their situation wash over her. She thought of her child, playing in their room and none the wiser of the change about to propel them into uncharted, dangerous, territory. And she was overcome with sudden remorse. “We should wait until tomorrow to tell Frisk anything,” said Anallie quietly. “Let them enjoy their birthday. I can’t take that away from them.”

“Of course,” Nornan replied, a genuine smile sweeping away the dread for the briefest of moments. “We should celebrate regardless. Our child is growing up. Eight years old. Heh. Where does all that time go?”

“As much as they’ve grown this year,” Anallie replied with a fond smile and a giggle. “They probably eat it.”

..........................................

Frisk grasped the end piece of string and pulled it through the loop, wrapping the new mass with the other loop and pulled. 

Well...it was certainly a knot. Just not the one they had been trying to make. It did not look as polished and practiced as father’s knots. He was really good at it, seeming to be able to conjure a beautiful and strong knot out of anything. It did not matter that it was an old piece of dusty twine or a fluffy and unwieldy bit of yarn. And one day, they were going to be just as good a borrower as their father. Better even! Of course, Frisk would not be permitted to go out borrowing until they were fourteen, as per tradition, but they had decided they would not remain idle. Frisk already knew how to identify hiding spots very well and how to utilize the ever handy paper clip. Their mother taught them many things, like how to sew. And after many attempts at it, Frisk had finally finished making his own pack. It was smaller than father’s but it fit perfectly and it could hold lots of things. Inside, he already had a rolled up section of strong thread, a bobby pin, and a chunk of tea biscuit wrapped in a green piece of clothe. Because it was always a good idea to have a snack handy. 

Frustrated at their less than perfect knot, but no less determined, Frisk began to untangle the lump of string to start over. They had just pulled the last bit free and it was once again a clean straight length of string when the door to their room opened. 

“How goes it?” Nornan asked, stepping into the room. The elder Borrower glanced about their child’s room and frowned. “I thought Mama told you to clean up?”

“I did!” Frisk protested. 

Nornan took another accusatory glance about the space, noting that yes the bed was made, but there were bits and bobs, tools and string littering the floor. “Then why does it look like a cat ransacked you’re trunk and shredded it on the floor?”

Frisk looked down at the mess around them, a flustered blush tinting their cheeks. “I did pick up, I promise! I just...un-did it. I wanted to try the knot you showed me, but the string was at the bottom of the trunk so I had to take everything back out... and I lost track of time.”

Nornan’s disapproving frown faltered and then he smiled. Stepping lightly over the mess, he bent down and scooped the child into his arms, moving over to the plush bed and sat down. “Eight years old already. Were you not just a baby yesterday?”

Frisk frowned. “No, I wasn’t. I haven’t been a baby for a very long time!”

Nonan pressed his face into the fluff of Frisk’s hair, reveling in the simple pleasure of holding his child. It helped lessen the oppressive weight of worrying about what was to come. Today, it was Frisk birthday and no Beans or Monsters could touch them in this moment. It was theirs to enjoy. Let the rest come later. “You’re growing up too fast. Stop that. Time is going too fast.”

Frisk wiggled against their father’s hold and turned their head to look him in the eye. “No! I want it to go faster so I can go borrowing with you!” 

Nornan chuckled. “Is that why you’re practicing your knots?”

“Uh-huh. I go really close, but I did something wrong. But I’ll get it.”

“That’s right,” said Nornan. “Never give up. Keep trying. Find a way.”

Frisk’s face broke out into wide grin. “Yep.”

“Ready for you’re special birthday dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m starving!” With that, Frisk leaped off their father’s lap and sprinted to the door, pausing under the lintel to look back at Nornan who had not moved. He still sat on the bed, regarding the energetic child with a soft smile of amusement. 

“C’mon, Papa! Food!” said Frisk before bounding out the door and down the short hall towards the kitchen. “I smell butterscotch!” 

“Coming, coming,” he replied as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. His body felt slow and tired. He had been feeling his age more and more and though the knowledge of the hardships awaiting them made his bones and muscles protest at the mere thought of it, Nornan Brittle was nothing but determined. He took a deep breath and followed after Frisk.

....................................

The next morning at breakfast, Nornan and Anallie told Frisk about the move.

“But why?” asked Frisk, a bowl of corn porridge steaming in front of their face untouched. “Is that a rule?”

“No,” said their mother, wiping down the counter with a damp bit of clothe. “It’s not a rule. But it’s not uncommon for Borrowers to move. In fact, we do it all the time. If we’re seen or whenever the house becomes too dangerous. Before we came to this house, you’re father and I lived in a small cottage together. The Bean there was an older lady, quiet and with bad eye sight. It was easy to live there, easy to borrow without the fear of being seen. She left food about the house constantly.”

“So what happened?” asked Frisk, finally taking a big spoonful of porridge and then gasping as it burned their tongue. “Ah. Hot, hot!”

“She died,” replied their father after taking a long drink of his tea. “Some relatives moved in a little while later.”

“Were they mean? Did they see you?” asked Frisk. “Is that why you moved?”

“They weren’t any worse than Beans usually are. But they had dogs. Lots of dogs.”

“Are dogs really scary? Are they like cats?” 

“They can be just as dangerous,” Nornan said. “One is not so much a problem, but when they’re in groups, it’s becomes a different matter.”

Anallie sat a plate of grape slices on the table before sitting down herself. “It’s best to stay away from dogs and cats alike, sweetie.”

“Okay,” nodded Frisk, adding dogs to his mental list of things that Borrowers had to avoid. They had never seen a dog before, but the neighbor Beans had a cat that would sometimes come over to their yard and Frisk knew to be wary of cats. Nornan had a close call last year around Christmas when he had gone out to the yard to collect a few of the wild blackberries from the brambles that grew along the back fence. The calico cat had nearly got a hold of the elder Borrower, but he managed to make it to the small crack near the back door. He had lost his pack, one boot, and the black berries, but was unharmed. 

He did not go blackberry picking anymore. 

“So, where are we moving to?” Frisk asked, taking another shot at a spoonful of porridge. It had cooled off marginally and they were able to eat it without trouble, though their tongue still stung a bit. 

“We don’t know,” replied their father. “And we won’t until we get there. That’s what makes this a very dangerous thing. We have to remain hidden while in transit and after.”

Frisk looked down into their bowl of porridge, faint tickles of something unpleasant picking at their brain. “So...why can’t we stay? Is that not allowed?”

“The reasons the Beans are moving is because they’re scared,” Anollie told Frisk, reaching out and picking at their hair, pushing stray strands back into place. Frisk pulled away from their mother’s ministrations, balking at her statement.

“B-but...they’re Beans. What could scare a Bean?”

“Monsters,” Nornan said. “Monsters are moving into the neighborhood and the Human Beans are scared.”

“Monsters..? Like the Boogie-Bean?” Frisk asked, tilting his head. He felt confused. 

“No, not like the Boogie-Bean,” replied Nornan. “Monsters don’t look like Beans. They can look like all sorts of things and can be smaller than a Bean or much bigger. But they’re all dangerous. Very dangerous.”

“More than a Bean?”

“Much, much more than a Bean,” replied Nornan, his voice low and stern. “If a Bean catches you, they might squish you or put you in a jar. But if a Monster catches you…

...they’ll eat you.”

Frisk dropped their spoon that had been poised at their mouth and it clattered noisily against the bowl, splattering little flecks of porridge across the table. “Monsters...e-eat people?”

They looked between their parents, looking for something, but only saw the bags under their eyes and the fear. Their mother was staring into her tea cup. Their father was looking at Frisk, holding his child’s gaze. 

“Yes,” he replied. “Humans are scared of Monsters because they can take a Human Bean’s soul. But Borrowers are not Beans. They don’t take our souls. They’ll devour you. And they’re senses are more acute than a Bean’s. They’ll know we’re there and use their magic to catch us.”

“Magic? Monsters know magic?”

“They do.”

“So you see, sweetie,” added Anallie, reaching out to rub Frisk’s back soothingly, seeing how upset Frisk was becoming. “That’s why we have to move.” 

Frisk stared down into their lap, suddenly not feeling hungry at all. There were plenty of things a Borrower had to be scared of to survive. Beans, dogs, cats. Cats ate Borrowers all the time, but they did not have magic and were not as big as a Bean. Frisk never felt afraid of cats. Not really. They had never run into one. Frisk knew they needed to avoid them. But they were not really scared of them. But Monsters...sounded horrible. And terrifying. They felt fear at the thought of them. Frisk remembered the neighbor cat and their father’s close call. They could have lost father that day. Right before Christmas too. They did not want to move. This was their home, the only one they had ever known. But they also did not want their parents to be hurt and certainly not eaten. Frisk did not want to be eaten either. 

He sighed and took in a fortifying breath, forcing away the squirming fear in their belly.

“Okay,” they said.

“Okay?” Nornan asked. 

“Yeah. It might be dangerous, but we’ll be okay,” said Frisk with a wide confident smile. Their parents watched them with confusion. “As long as we’re together, we can do anything! Moving doesn’t have to be scary. It’s an adventure!”

Nornan and Anallie smiled at their child, filled with pride. And for a very real moment, they almost believed Frisk’s words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well isn't Frisk just a little ball of energy and optimism? And of course there is the old 'cant' sleep, monsters will eat me' thing. Borrowers share the same irrational prejudices as Humans, maybe even more so. They just don't know any better. They're kind of predisposed to be wary of EVERYTHING. Even other Borrowers. 
> 
> Please leave me a message, I love to hear from readers.


	2. A Leap Too Far.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans take the ease of travel for granted, I think. Imagine if you have to get around like a Borrower! Frisk's about to find out just how challenging it really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you who left me messages and kudos and who bookmarked this story. I am very happy to be able to post the next chapter early. Again, this chapter is unedited so I apologize for spelling and grammar errors. Please enjoy.

The Brittle family waited anxiously at the mouth of one of their tunnels, carrying their worldly good with them on their backs. Frisk had the pack that they had made for borrowing, stuffed to bursting with their clothes, some tools of their own making, some tea cookie chunks, and of course Puddles. Puddles was a well worn and well loved stuffed toy their mother had made them when they were little. He looked like a squishy potato with beady little eyes and his arms were made of stiff cord, but Puddles had been Frisk’s best friend for many years. Frisk named him Puddles because that was their favorite game. Jumping in puddles. Though they insisted that they were too old for stuffed toys, Frisk still stuffed Puddles into his pack when they was sure their folks were not looking. 

The tunnel was one that led to the front yard of the house and the driveway. Parked in the front was a red pickup truck, tailgate down, and filled with the Bean’s possessions. A pile of yet to be loaded boxes sat on the ground near the back tire. 

“Don’t let go of my hand, sweetie,” Anallie told Frisk. “No matter what.” 

Frisk nodded. 

When the Beans went back inside the house, the Brittles made their move. “Now,” Nornan hissed, rushing into the open followed closely by his wife and child. They were half way to the box pile when the front door to the house opened back up and all three of them froze. The towering figure of a Bean was half way out of the house, one arm pushing the screen door open, but his attention was directed to the interior of the house. The three Borrowers watched, none of them daring to even breathe. 

“I don’t know where you put the stupid drapes! Probably in the boxes near the stairs,” snapped the angry voice of the Father Bean. “Why do you need to know? If they ain’t hanging up, they’re packed!”

“Well, come help me look!” snapped an equally angry voice from inside the house. “I want to keep them all together!”

“FINE!”

The Father Bean disappeared back inside and the Brittles released their collective breathes in a heavy sigh. Not willing to waist the moment, they all hurries over to the box pile. Nornan tossed up his fish hook and it sailed into the air, trailing a long thick strange of cord behind it. The sharp end of the hook dug into the cardboard and he gave it a few strong tugs to test the grip. Once he was satisfied, Nornan pulled himself up, scaling the wall of the box. Frisk watched their father move, amazed at how easy the movments came to him and how effortlessly the elder Borrower climbed the wall. Next, Anallie and Frisk tied their packs to the rope and Nornan pulled them up. Then it was Frisk’s turn to climb. However, only a few inches off the ground, they lost their grip and fell, landing hard on their back. Their mother was instantly at their side, pulling them up and dusting them off. 

Frisk felt very silly and tried to hide how red his cheeks were. 

“Here,” Anallie said soothingly as she wrapped the cord around their middle. “Hold on tight and push your legs out, keep them straight.”

Doing as they were told, Frisk held on tight, letting the cord’s grip around them do most of the work and they kept their feet planted on the flat surface of the box as Nornan pulled them up. Disappointed at failing at the most simple and basic of Borrower skills, Frisk undid the cord and handed it back to their father. Their regret must have been plastered across their face, because as he lowered the line back down for his wife, Nornan said, “Don’t worry, Frisk. You’ll have plenty of practice climbing at our new home. I’m going to need your help after all.”

Frisk titled their head. “Really?”

“Yup. It’s a big job moving to a new house. There might not be any tunnels and we’ll have to map out the whole place, find the good spots, and find an area to set up our new home. I’ll need your help with that. And I’ll teach you how to scale a rope. So don’t let it bother you. Remember, chin up. Everyone starts somewhere.”

“Okay,” the Borrower child responded. They were filled with determination. 

Once Anallie had joined them atop the box, Nornan cut slip in the tape sealing the box shut and pushed down the bottom flap, creating a short slide down into the box. It was filled with what appeared to be towels. They pushed their belongings down first, quickly followed by Anallie, Frisk, and finally Nornan who gave his surroundings a good hawk eyed glance before heading down. 

Inside was cozy enough, the plush towels making a comfortable place to sit, and the family settled down. Frisk rubbed their hands together, still feeling the sting from gripping the cord when they fell. Father’s hands were much rougher than Frisk’s after years of borrowing. They wondered how long it would take for their soft hands to become as rough as his. Their thoughts were interrupted when their world suddenly shifted and Frisk fell against their mother. Anallie grabbed onto her child instinctually as she looked around their dark confines. 

“Here we go,” said Nornan, gripping the towel fabric beneath him to steady himself as the box was lifted and pushed into the truck. He looked to Frisk, a strained smile on his face. “Our adventure begins.”

.................................................

 

The roar of the truck was muffled from inside the box and there was a strong and ever present vibration accompanied by the occasional bump. It was hard for the family to really keep steady as the odd bump or dip would send them flailing to steady themselves. But Frisk found a better way to ride out the journey. They clambered to the top of a fold of towel and waited for the truck to jostle and just as it did, they pushed themselves off the top fold and tumbled down the slope, landing harmlessly near their mother in a fit of giggles. 

“Be careful, dear,” she warned. “You’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“But it’s soft!” Frisk whined, wiggling against the towel beneath them as to prove their point. 

“Frisk,” Nornan’s stern voice said. “Listen to your Mama.” 

With a pout at having to abandoned such a fun game, Frisk sat up and looked at their mother with their best dewy-eyed pleading look. “One more! Please? Then I’ll stop. I promise.”

“One more,” she said, holding up a single finger. She never could resist Frisk’s puppy eyes. “And then you’ll come sit with me for a nap. It wont do for you to be all tuckered out when we get there. There’s a lot to do once we get to the new house.”

A nap? What were they? Five?! Frisk felt as though they had all the energy in the world. Excitement seemed to bubble over and their chest felt full with it, making them feel restless and needing to move and to jump and to play. 

“Okay, Mama,” replied Frisk as they scampered once more to the top towel with renewed vigor. At the top, they lay and waited, feeling the rhythm of the truck and trying to time their jump just right for the optimum effect. The bottom of the truck dipped as it hit a particularly nasty bump and as the feeling of weightlessness overtook their senses, Frisk leaped forward and curled themselves into a ball and they rolled at a great speed down, passed their mother, and slammed into the box wall. 

“Frisk!” came their mother’s panicked voice. “Are you alright?”

Her panic eased, however, when Frisk’s response was to burst out into uncontrolled giggles. They lay upside down, bottom pressed to the cardboard, their legs sticking up in the air, and their head tilted up to look at the concerned faces of their parents. 

“That was the best one!” Frisk replied with a wide grin. 

Nornan sighed, willing the fluttering of his heart to ease back to a normal rhythm. “Okay, Flippey McFlipperson, time to settle down now.”

“Oh, alright...” Frisk rolled onto their belly and began to push themselves up when everything began to rock violently. “Ah! Wha-?”

Frisk was thrown about as everything jumped up and down, jostling the small family and the towels alike. Abruptly, everything went sideways and the box flipped. There were cries and screams of alarm as the large towels folded over the Brittles. The side of the box split open at one end and a beam of bright sunlight burst through. A smaller hand towel fell over Frisk as they tried to keep themselves from rolling about. As the truck continued to bounce, Frisk could not keep themselves from being hopelessly rolled and tangled into the tattered beige clothe and they found themselves calling out for help. 

They though they may have heard their father yell something, maybe their name, but there was so much noise with the box ripped apart, letting in the roar of the truck and the clinking and clanking of boxes and other things bouncing about. 

“Mama!” Frisk cried out as they rolled, their small bundle tumbling out the hole in the box and into the open truck bed. There was a horrendously loud crash and Frisk looked back to see the truck’s tailgate had fallen open, leaving it to bounce and clatter with every bump of the truck. Suddenly, the truck lurched forward as it hit the breaks, sending everything forward. Frisk landed hard against the metal floor, just a few inches from the box opening. 

“Frisk!”

They looked up and saw their father, a rope tied about his waist and the fish hook firmly wedged into the box’s wall. A glove hand reached out to Frisk. 

“Papa!” Frisk scrambled up, fighting against the tangle of fabric around their legs. They tumbled and kicked at the offending towel, reaching out desperately to their father. “Papa, please! I’m scared!”

“Reach out to me, Frisk!” Nornan yelled, gritting his teeth as sweat poured down his temples. “It’s gonna be alright, little one. Grab my hand!”

“Papa…please!” Their fingers were so close, Frisk could almost touch their father’s glove. Nornan’s face was contorted into an expression of vehement determination.

“...REACH!”

The world shifted with a bang and Frisk was struck with the feeling of weightlessness again, but this time it was not fun at all. It was terrifying. The truck bucked and shook and accelerated, sending everything in the bed lurching backwards. Frisk was cast in darkness as the towel consumed them and they flew back, bounced off the tailgate…

...and fell. 

 

“FRISK!”

………………..

 

The sound of a truck engine was what congealed their thoughts together enough for them to come back to reality. Frisk pushed the towel off their head and looked around. They were laying in the street and just ahead, they could see a familiar red pick up truck rounding a corner and zooming off. 

A deep pit of fear settled in Frisk’s belly before a wave of pure panic pushed them to their feet. Little feet pounded against cold pavement as they ran, tears stinging their eyes, blurring their vision, as their mind was filled with an endless pleading, desperate, mantra. 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…

“MAMA! PAPA!” They screamed, little lungs gasping for air as they came to an awkward stop, almost loosing their balance and falling. They couldn’t breathe, could not fill their lungs full enough. They felt like they were suffocating. Their head hurt, their back hurt, their eyes stung and their stomach was doing flip flops. 

They looked at the corner where the truck had disappeared. They stared at it as though if they just stood there long enough, the truck would come back. Or perhaps their parents would come for them. Maybe they had fallen too…

...but no one came. 

Frisk looked around, sniffing against the tickle in their nose as they cried. The sky above was gray and cold, faint chilled winds blowing through the street. It was a residential neighborhood with nice little houses in neat little rows. The ground was covered in a fine layer of frost and it was only looking down at their feet and seeing snow flakes that Frisk registered how cold it was. They shivered and looked back. The evil towel lay uselessly in the gutter, surrounded by dead leaves and bits of trash. With slow steps, Frisk walked back to it. Their mind was abuzz with so many things, but felt blank and empty all at the same time. When they reached the sad pile of clothe, they pulled it around their shoulders. It still held a bit of warmth. Their pack tumbled out from the fold and spilled onto the floor. 

One of the seems had ripped. The cord was still there, as was one of the tea biscuits, and…Puddles. Relief sparked in Frisk’s chest and they reached out and scooped the stuffed toy up into their arms, pressing it to their face and began to sob. Puddles smelled like home, like their old room. Like Mama. Grief struck hard and without mercy and Frisk doubled over, clutching Puddles to their chest as though he were the only thing keeping them from floating into the giant sky above them. “M-mama...please come back. Papa...please. Papa...”

……………….

It was a miserable procession that walked along the gutter of the quiet street. Frisk held Puddles and their busted pack under one arm and held together the flaps of towel that draped over their head and shoulders with the other. They were much more aware of how sore they were now. Their knees were scrapped, one even bleeding a little, and there was a decent size goose egg growing atop their head. Everything hurt and they were tired. 

Frisk did not know where they were going, but it seemed the best thing to was to move forward. They needed to find someplace to rest, someplace safe. They ambled on in a daze, not really seeing what was around them with only some unknown force pushing them onward. In their mind, they studied over the faces of their parents, wondering if they would ever see them again. They thought of their father’s face as he had reached out to him, pleading with Frisk to just reach…

...A fresh wave of tears hit and Frisk let them fall down their cheeks. 

If they had not been so distracted by their morose thoughts, Frisk may have spotted the rustling on the other side of the street. However, it was only when a large blur of black and white fur leaped from behind the tall grass that Frisk’s mind snapped to attention. 

It was a cat. And it was big. And it was coming right for them. 

With an alarmed cry, Frisk abandoned the towel and sprinted away from the cat, little legs pumping as hard as they could. Behind them, they heard the cat growl, a deep guttural sound that sent tinkling jolts of terror down their spine. The pads of the feline’s feet were so close, Frisk felt as though they could feel the cat’s breathe on their neck. They dared a glance back and immediately regretted it as all that met their gaze were wild amber eyes and a mouth, blood red, and full of long sharp teeth.

Frisk screamed and ducked. The cat’s body flew over them, it’s belly fur brushing the top of their head, and Frisk rushed in the other direction. An empty sports drink bottle lay in the middle of the road and Frisk ran for it, leaping into the wide mouth and wiggling inside. As soon as they slipped into the sticky, sweet smelling interior, the Cat landed on top of it, sending the whole thing spinning across the road.

When it finally settled, Frisk’s head continued to spin and they felt their stomach lurch alarmingly. The cat was there again, batting at the bottle with clawed paws, trying to get to Frisk. They watched, terrified, as claws long and sharp, scratched and dragged against the plastic that kept the small borrower from becoming lunch. When the cat got no where with that, it opened its mouth and began to bite at the opening. Frisk pushed themselves against the other end of the bottle, looking on in horror as those teeth and claws worked fervently at trying to reach them.

They whimpered as the cat continued it’s struggles, never relenting its attack or the fervent pace at which it worked. And all of a sudden, the cat stopped. It froze mid-bite and its head jerked up, glancing back at something behind it and it turned to bolt down the street where it disappeared behind a fence. Frisk got to their feet, knees wobbling, and looked around. 

What could scare a cat away from a cornered meal…?

A shadow fell over Frisk, and stiffly, they looked up into the face of a creature with small beady black eyes. It was something large and white and very very fluffy. Its tongue lulled out of the side of its mouth as it panted, the corner of the thing’s lips were pulled up as though it were smiling. It sniffed at the bottle, rolling it slightly with its nose and sending Frisk tumbling. Frisk watched with confusion at the new creature and then suddenly something in their brain clicked. 

It was a dog!

Wait...Mama said dogs were scary. Oh no…

“Uh...hi...uh, mister dog,” Frisk said, gulping back their nervousness. “Uh...it’s kinda cold out here...huh?”

But the dog just stared and panted. 

“Um...” Frisk wondered if dogs could speak. “I, uh...like your fur.”

The dog stopped panting and tilted its head. 

“...it’s really nice and...uh, fluffy?”

As though Frisk had said the magic words, the dog bent down, jaws wide. Frisk gasped and curled themselves into a ball. The bottle titled and Frisk fell backwards. The dog had taken the bottle into its jaws and started trotting off down the street with a very confused Frisk along for the ride. 

………………….

 

Frisk was not sure if they were happy or distressed at the turn of events. They were happy the cat was gone and that the dog did not seem to have any intentions of eating the Borrower, but they were very unhappy as the dog seemed to be intent on burying them instead. The dog had brought its bottled Borrower prisoner to the backyard of one of the houses. In the back corner was a pile of seemingly random items. An old hiking boot, several cans, and what appeared to be...bones?

Frisk considered recanting the idea that the dog had no intentions of eating them. The dog dropped the bottle next to the old boot and turned to a section of upturned earth and began to dig. With the dog’s attention elsewhere, Frisk slowly starting eased themselves out of the bottle, never taking their gaze off the dog. Their feet touched blessedly solid earth and, stilling keeping a firm hold on Puddles and their pack, tip toed around the large fluffy form. There was a small gap in the fence only a few yards away. If Frisk could be quiet enough, they could make it through and be scott free! They passed the opening of the boot when the sound of digging suddenly stopped. The dog turned towards Frisk, the happy smiling expression fell.

With a startled ‘meep’, Frisk dove into the old boot, scrambling down until he was wedged into the toe. The dog’s snout poked at the opening and it yipped, tongue slipping out of its muzzle as it panted. It sniffed several times before opening its jaws and biting down into the leather and fabric of the boot’s top. It gnawed on the leather for several moments with small growls and barks before it stopped and lifted the boot up. Once more that day, Frisk found themselves being unwillingly whisked away by the dog. 

That feeling of not being able to breathe returned and Frisk wished that their parents were there with them. But they were alone. 

“Please mister dog,” Frisk called out. “Please let me go!”

The dog did not answer, but Frisk was suddenly aware of other sounds. There were voices and a creaking of what sounded like a door. 

“...but it’s not appropriate attire for a...ah!” a voice, sounding very far up, suddenly shouted. “SANS! THE DOG IS BACK!”

The dog’s speed suddenly increased and Frisk held on for dear life as everything bounced. 

“...close the door, Pap,” said another voice. “...or it’s gonna, ah. Never mind. Too late.”

“CATCH IT, SANS!”

The dog rushed forward and darted back and forth for seemingly no reason. The boot was abruptly dropped, landing on its side and nearly spilling Frisk out into the open. They looked up and saw a wooden floor, a brightly colored rug, and a couch. They were in a house. And there were foot steps. Instinct took over and Frisk ran from out of the boot, aiming for the cover of the couch.

“I dunno, Pap, the pup seems kind hungry,” said one of the voices. “Maybe we should throw it a bone?”

“Sans, no...”

“Sans, yes.”

“We’re gonna be late!” cried the other voice. “We don’t have time for this...this...lollygagging!”

From their cover of the couch, Frisk peeked out. The could not fully see the two Beans, but they could see their pant legs and the dog off towards the open door. One of the Beans looked to be much taller than the other, dressed in pressed black slacks and polished shoes and a matching blazer. The shorter one wore gray slacks and polished shoes and...a blue hoodie. The dog was sprawled on the ground at the feet of the shorter Bean, biting at their leg, tail wagging contently.

“Sorry, buddy,” said the Bean, not seeming all that concerned at the dog’s behavior. “But I kinda need that for tonight. Otherwise I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.”

“Please Sans,” pleaded the taller Bean. “Not tonight. I’m in too good a mood for you to ruin it with puns.” 

“Alright, alright. Just ‘cause you’re my brother.”

“Thank you. Now please remove that vagrant from the premises! I’ll see to disposal of this filthy boot.” 

Frisk scrambled back further under the couch as the Bean approached, reaching down to pick up the boot that had brought Frisk there. A hand appeared from beyond the couch and Frisk felt the icy finger of fear drag itself down their spine. Their eyes widened and their mouth opened in mute horror. The hand...wasn’t a normal hand. Not at all. It was all bones. Like...bone bones. No flesh or muscle at all. They weren’t Beans. These two weren’t Human Beans at all. No...They were monsters. 

And Frisk was very afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if this story is an AU, it only seems fitting that Frisk's real adventures start with them falling, right? After this chapter, someone owes the little guy a cookie or something. Geez.


	3. For Want of Comfort and French Fries.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk's limited borrowing abilities are put to the test. But when you're main motivational factor is food...you don't always make the most sound decisions. And Frisk is kind of always hungry. You can see how this might be a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: here there be spelling and grammar mistakes. I don't have a beta so if anyone wants to help a 'gal out catching them pesky oopsies, that'd be awesome. Also, YAY for cranking out another chapter early. Can't promise the updates will roll this quickly, but I shall do my best.

The two monsters left soon after, but Frisk did not dare move from their spot under the couch for a long time, feeling smaller than they ever had. They had survived a fall from a moving truck, went toe to toe with their first cat, and even met a dog whose full intentions were still not immediately understood. Frisk knew how to hide from Beans. They understood the rules. The steps. Well, for the most part. They knew nothing of monsters except that they knew magic and... 

Their father’s words echoed in their head.

‘...if a Monster catches you, they’ll eat you.’

When they felt brave enough, Frisk got to their feet and walked along the back wall towards the door that sat just beside the couch. With the monsters gone, their best shot at getting out was now. Frisk had no intention of being a skeleton snack, so they pushed away their fear and took a deep fortifying breathe. They remembered their father saying something about how some doors had gaps wide enough to get through and were good for emergency exit strategies. But the door to the monsters’ house was flush with the door jam. No gaps at all. 

That idea was a bust. 

So they walked around the perimeter of the bottom floor, checking wall sockets and corners, for any signs that Borrowers had ever lived in the house. It would make hiding much easier if there were tunnels and doors already there. But there was no sign of past Borrowers. The wall sockets were tightly screwed shut and the baseboards were intact without any cracks or openings. They supposed the could just make one, but in truth, Frisk had no idea how to make tunnels or doors. Their father had never told them how it was actually done. But Frisk recalled something father told them earlier that day, that he would teach Frisk how to map out a new home. When they got to the Bean’s new house.

A house Frisk would never see. 

The bottom floor was smaller than Frisk first thought. There was a good sized living room with a couch, a coffee table, a TV, the rug and a set of stairs that led up to the second floor. There was a smaller alcove to the right that seemed to be some sort of informal dining room with a wooden table. While wondering around the table legs, they found a paper clip and a stale piece of food that may or may not have once been a bit of french fry. Stale of not, Frisk tucked it into their pocket. It was the first bit of food that they had found and thought it was worth keeping. They wondered what skeleton monsters normally ate when they weren’t munching tiny folk. Would there even be anything they could borrow? 

Left of the dining room was the kitchen. It was smaller than the one at the old house, but the cupboards were much lower to the ground and Frisk could reach them and the doors opened easier than they had thought. The bottom cupboards were mostly bear of food, but there was a long paper carton filled with smaller boxes of various types of cereal pushed off to one side near the back. They regarded the discovery as though it were a gift from heaven. Excitedly, they looked at each box, noting the bright colors and large ornate writing. Their father would sometimes bring Frisk pieces of cereal when he went out borrowing. They were a beloved treat and Frisk felt a wave of warm nostalgia wash over them. Their stomach rumbled when they saw one cereal had marshmallows. They pressed their hands against the box and pushed it over, freeing it from the paper tray with the others. It fell easily enough and they climbed on top of it to wedge their fingers under the flap and pulled. It took several good yanks before the glue broke loose. 

“Yes!” Frisk cheered, hopping down off the box and reaching into box to grab the plastic bag and pulled. It slipped out of the box with more ease than they would have thought. Using their paper clip, Frisk pulled the end straight and dragged it across the plastic bag, ripping into it. However, in their enthusiasm, they pulled a little too hard and the bag ripped apart completely, throwing cereal and marshmallow across the cupboard floor. “Uh. Oops...”  


The crispy brown cereal bits smelled familiar and sweet and the hard marshmallows were brightly colored and in various blob-like shapes. Frisk picked up the pieces of cereal, stuffing their pockets, and when they were full, they used their shirt as a basket and filled it too. Laden with food, Frisk wandered back to the cupboard opening and hopped down.

And promptly fell over, spilling their prized borrowing across the floor. With a frustrated groan, Frisk set about recollecting the pieces. After leaving the kitchen, Frisk went back to the couch and sat down on the wooden floor. They ate the marshmallows and cereal and they started to feel better, if only a little. They turned to their pack and pulled out the length of rope. They laid out their only possessions plus their new paper clip and pondered. They could figure this out. They did not have a way out of the house yet. So they needed a safe hiding spot until then. They thought about the cupboard, but immediately tossed the idea away. Too easy to be spotted, even if there was food there. Behind the TV? Not enough cover. The couch was a good spot, but it too was a little open for Frisk’s comfort. They would be spotted from the right angle. But then they thought…

...what about inside the couch?

They got to their feet and walked around, reaching up to feel the fabric that lined the bottom of the couch. It was not thick like the faded green upholstery on the outside. It was black and thin, like tightly woven spiderwebs. It did not look like it would be hard to cut through.  
Filled with a renewed spirit and a healthy dose of determination, Frisk grabbed the paper clip and plunged it up into the fabric. They made a series of holes as close together as they could and then used their hands to tear a jagged line. 

They had made their first door. Feeling a swell of pride, Frisk heaved themselves up into the confines of the lumpy green couch. The inside very dusty, which seemed odd to Frisk. But it became apparent that the dust all over everything was just the couch’s old stale stuffing. Whatever it was made of crumbled in their hands like an old cookie and it smelled like plastic and dust. They pushed the odd stuffing away from their opening and began to create a sort of nest. Hanging their pack on one of the springs, Frisk pulled themselves into one of the wooden supports. They pulled the stale french fry piece and gave it an exploratory taste.  
Yep, definitely old potato. They put it in their pack and stayed like that for a good while before deciding to try and sleep a little. They hoped down off of the wooden support and onto the fabric flooring. They brushed some more the of dust away and settled down. It did not take long before the day’s events pooled above them and drowned them in exhaustion. 

Their eyes closed, but they did not dream. 

……………………….

They awoke with a start when a frigid blast of air blew under the couch, plunging their little form into fit of shivers. There was the squealing of door hinges and the stomping of feet. 

The Monsters were home.

“Wowie! It’s really coming down,” said the taller skeleton monster. “It almost looks like Snowdin!”

“Yep, and if it keeps going on at this pace,” replied the shorter skeleton. “We’ll definitely be snowed-in.”

There was a loud groan. “Sans, you promised no puns!”

“Parties over, bro,” said the monster. “Pun prohibition has been lifted.”

Another exasperated groan. “Well, I’m going to make some tea and then go to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

Above them, Frisk watched the springs creek and compress as the skeleton sat down. Peaking their head out the slip of the fabric, Frisk spotted the gray pant legs of the shorter skeleton just beyond the underside of the couch. The monster flicked off their polished shoes, letting the stiff loafers clatter against the wooden floor, revealing colorfully printed socks decorated with what Frisk thought looked like...hot dogs? 

“And don’t just leave your shoes in the middle of the floor!”

“Sure thing, Pap.”

But the monster made no move to pick their shoes up. Frisk heard a click and the sound of a TV turning on. There were several more quick clicks as the monster flipped through the channel before seeming to settle on something that caught their fancy. The soft voice of an elderly sounding Bean filtered through the room as they began to describe something called ‘a spiral galaxy’ and someone named ‘Andromeda’. 

Faint noises filtered from the kitchen such as the clinking of ceramic and the whistling of a kettle. The closing of cupboards and an inaudible mutter of displeasure. The taller skeleton emerged from the kitchen with a steaming mug, their black blazer folded neatly over one arm. 

“Don’t stay up too late, Sans.”

“I won’t, bro.”

“And remember to close the cupboards when you’re done next time!”

Uh-oh. Frisk’s heart sank as they tried to remember if they had closed the cupboard and could not remember pushing it shut behind them. They had also left the cereal turned over, forgetting to right it in their haste to get back to their hiding spot so they could eat. 

Oh no...

“Huh? Whatta ya mean?”

“The bottom cupboard near the stove. It was wide open. I’m just asking that you remember to close it when you’re done hiding your junk food that you think I don’t know about. And if you’re going to eat cereal, use a bowl. Don’t worry, though, for I have cleaned up the mess.” 

“Uh, kinda lost here, Pap,” replied the short monster. “Mind giving me a hint?”

An exasperated sigh. “The cupboard was open and one of your cereal boxes was ripped open. There was cereal all over the place!”

“Huh. Was it?”

“Yes, I would appreciate it if you would not do that anymore. It’s one thing to leave socks about all willy nilly, but leaving out food might attract bugs or mice or something!”

“Sure thing, Papyrus. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you. Well, goodnight, then.”

“G’night, bro.”

Frisk tucked their head back inside the sofa and curled into a miserable little ball. Their first time borrowing had felt like a success, but now all they felt was cold dread. They had made a mistake, one of the most simple of mistakes. Always cover your tracks. Leave no sign that you were there. Mistakes could easily turn deadly. Frisk felt their eyes prickle with tears and they pulled Puddles close to them. They were not having a very good day.

There was a metal screech of springs as the short skeleton rose from the couch. Curiosity compelled Frisk to uncurl from their misery and peek outside. They watched the hot-dog socked skeleton walk to the kitchen, towards the trash bin, and reach inside. He pulled out the empty cereal box, looking it over in his hand before reaching down again and pulling out the plastic bag. He dropped the box back inside and started turning the bag over in his hands, a boney finger tracing around the jagged tear Frisk had made. 

“Hmm...mice, huh?”

Frisk did not care for that sound. He sounded curious, suspicious even. Frisk’s mind started sprinting into different avenues of thought, none of them pleasant, and all of them ending with skeletal jaws parting before a trapped and helpless Borrower child. As the skeleton monster turned back to the living room, Frisk ducked back inside the couch. Suddenly, Frisk did not feel too good. All the cereal they had eaten felt heavy in their stomach and a bubble of fear formed in their chest. 

They reached for Puddles again. 

…………………………….

 

Frisk was too scared to move did not leave the couch for all of the next day. They did their best to sleep through it all, but the smell of plastic and dust kept them awake, making them sneeze and giving them a mild headache. Their back hurt more than it had the day before and they were hungry. 

But they dared not go out borrowing. So they ate their tea biscuit and the stale fry. But all it did was give them a tummy ache. 

At some point, Frisk heard the two Skeletons come down stairs and do whatever it was that they do. The taller skeleton was speaking excitedly about all the snow that had fallen and that he was going to go make a ‘Snow Papyrus’.

“Like the one I made back in Snowdin!” 

Frisk felt the cold sweep under the couch as the front door opened and they huddled further into themselves, wishing for a blanket. Any hope of leaving the house was severly hampered by the thick blanket of snow that had fallen. They would have to wait till it all melted before they could escape. It had gotten much colder than the day prior and Frisk had not worn their coat, but instead wore only their favorite sweater and a pair of brown short pants. Their idea of optimum borrowing attire. Thinking of their warm coat brought back memories of their bed back at the old house. They thought of the warm dining room and a bowl of hot corn porridge. A cup of spiced tea. Their mother pulling them into her lap, rocking them back and forth, and humming a familiar melody as she ran her fingers through their hair. They could almost fell the pleasant wave of tingles over their scalp. They smelled their father as he returned from an outing, smelling of leather and sweat. The sounds and smells and feelings of being home. Being loved. Being safe... 

...and they cried.

 

………………………………..

 

Hunger woke them up from a fitful bout of sleep. Their stomach was protesting the lack of food, moaning loudly and contorting in on itself. It was not happy and wanted Frisk to know it. Frisk had never gone so long a time without even a snack to tide them over and found the whole hunger pang idea very annoying.  
So when their nose caught a whiff of something delicious, it was enough to pull them from the confines of their couch nest. They dropped down, careful not to make too much noise. The smell was intoxicating, able to coax the child closer and closer to the edge of the couch and just stop short. There was food sitting out on the coffee table. An impossibly large hamburger and a paper try filled to the top with crispy...golden...delicious...french fries. Not at all like the hard dried nibble they had scarfed down earlier.  
These were fresh and plump and Frisk wanted one. Badly.

Frisk was practically salivating at the sight. But a noise broke their stupor and they scampered back as the short skeleton sauntered over to the couch and sat down. They noticed that instead of wearing the hot dog socks from before, the skeleton’s feed were now clad in...pink fuzzy slippers? Frisk sat on the ground, legs out, and listened to the sound of the skeleton as he started eating the hamburger and fries. Maybe he would drop one or two or three. 

They barely registered the sounds of the television, the words of some unknown Bean speaking of things Frisk knew nothing about. 

“...registration closed. Turn out hit records levels despite several protests that lead to numerous arrests and sent one police officer to the hospital with minor injuries. A press conference by the mayor’s office is scheduled later today to discuss the passing of Prop 702 and its impact on Human Monster relations. The Governor issued a congratulatory statement after news reached his office, praising the citizens of Ebbotton for, and I quote, ‘upholding the values of our nation and persevering in the face of prejudice and hatred’ end quote...”

Frisk was still fantasizing about fries falling from the sky when a loud and abrupt noise from above startled them, making them jump. The sound rang again and once more before cutting off mid ring. 

“’Sup Cap’n? How’s Tokyo treatin’ ya?” asked the monster to seemingly no one. A pause. “Yup, watchin’ it right now. Final figures are hovering at 88% for, 12 against, error margin of 5%.”

Another long pause. 

“Yep,” he said. “Celebratin’ with some Grillbys.”

Another pause and a chuckle.

“Yeah, the permit was approved about a week ago. Just opened today. Yep, first in line. Figured I’d leave dinner to whatever Papyrus is obsessed with this week. I think he finally  
gave up on crepes...Ah, no don’t have it on me. Give me a sec, I’ll go see.”

The skeleton monster rose from the couch and Frisk watch the slippers walk over to the stairs and climb out of view. Frisk quickly rose to their feet, ran back to their nest, and grabbed the string and paperclip. Filled with a renewed sense of determination, and a deep desire for a fry, Frisk wrapped the string around one end of the paper clip and bent the other end into a hook. Monsters or no Monsters, Frisk was going to get a french fry. Working quickly, they ran out from under the couch and looked up. Their eyes landed on the red and white checkered paper tray: target sighted. 

It took three tries before the paperclip gripped onto something inside the tray. Confident that they had snagged a fry, Frisk grinned and gave an almighty pull…  
...and the entire tray jerked off the table. An avalanche of hot fries and grease fell towards Frisk who jumped backwards with a cry of alarm. They scrambled back under the table, forgetting the string and paperclip that was now buried under a pile of fries. 

Frisk looked back, waiting with baited breath. Nothing. 

But there was a glorious pile of food sitting right in front of the child. Frisk walked up to the pile, marveling at the bounty and caught sight of their tool. The paperclip’s sharp end had penetrated the paper tray where the grease soaked paper had weakened its wall on one side. Frisk reached down and grabbed the nearest french fry and brought it to their face. They took a huge bite and reveled in the taste. Wariness drained from their body as they chewed. So distracted at finally managing to get something to eat, they did not hear the foot steps coming down the stairs. 

“What the...” Frisk froze mid-chew and turned to look up and found themselves eye locked with the skeleton monster, a cell phone pressed to the side of his skull. The surprised wide black sockets of its skull were lit with only small pinprick pupils. And they were trained on Frisk. “Holy sh-!”

Frisk screamed and dove back for the cover of the couch, gripping the fry for dear life. They wiggled into the flap of their nest and clambered atop the wood support, heart hammering against their rib cage. Outside, they heard the loud thud of the skeleton monster dropping to their knees, bending down to peer under the couch after whatever it was that he thought he saw. 

“What in the world…?”

Frisk curled in on themselves and waited. Listening. And praying.

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

They had been seen. They had been seen. They. Had. Been. Seen. 

Oh no. The monster knew where they were, he was gonna find them, he was gonna catch them, he was gonna eat them! Revenge for spilling the fries probably. Frisk couldn’t breathe, their chest hurt, and their heart was loud in their ears.

There was shuffling outside and the couch shifted slightly. Frisk bit down on a startled cry, daring not to move or make a sound. 

“...was that…? Huh? Oh! No, I’m still here, Undyne. I’ll have to...uh, yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

The skeleton poked and prodded at and around the couch for several long minutes until he seemed to give up. 

“I swear, I thought I saw...”

‘No, no. You didn’t see anything.’

“Huh. Maybe I haven’t been taking enough naps...”

‘Yeah, sure.’ Frisk thought to themselves. ‘In fact, you should go take one right now...’

Frisk heard a disgruntled sigh and the sound of the fries being picked up. They looked down at the warm french fry in their hands and took a small bite.

It did not taste as good as it did a few moments ago. 

“...well, well. What is this? Heh.”

And then Frisk remembered they left their paperclip still attached to the tray. They let out a groan of self loathing and held their head in their hands. How could they be so stupid? They really were horrible at borrowing, leaving a convenient trail of clues for the monster to find them. Proverbial bread crumbs. 

“Seems like we may have ourselves a trespasser,” came the skeleton’s voice, low and contemplative. Sounding for all the world like a coiled snake ready to strike. “And something tells me it ain’t no mouse.”

……………………

Frisk decided they had to leave. The monster knew they were there now. They would be on the look out. Maybe even set traps. Father once told Frisk of the various types of traps Beans would set up to catch pests. Most were obvious and easy to avoid, but some were a little harder. Like glue pads or poison pellets. Father warned Frisk never pick up suspicious food off the floor, especially if it was brightly colored and smelled sweet. It would almost certainly be poisoned.  
Snow or no snow, they could not stay. Better to freeze out in the wilderness than burn in a monster’s belly. Or at least, that was what they told themselves. In fair disclosure, Frisk was overrun with nerves and terror. They felt trapped, forced to choose their own means of demise. There did not seem to be any choice, not really. Wishing desperately for any other option, Frisk cried as they went about readying for the task ahead. They had decided that the only means of escape was through the vents. There was a grate behind the table in the dining room. Maybe they could make it to the house over and hide there for a little while. Maybe there were Borrowers there that could help. It did not take long for Frisk to gather their things, but they spent a few hours trying to fix their pack, using a loose thread from the couch to close the busted seem. It was a crude rushed job, but did the trick. After all, they did not have a sewing needle. They secured Puddles into the bag and slung it onto their back and waited for dark.  
Listening to the sounds of the house as the day wore on was strange. The other skeleton monster came home and seemed very happy about something, as did the shorter one. It was a stark juxtaposition to Frisk’s current mood. Their muted terror to their jubilant laughs. 

The kitchen clamored with loud noises, timers going off, things opening and closing, and a jaunty tune being hummed by the taller skeleton. At one point, the smoke alarm went off and the house was filled with an acrid smelling smoke. 

“I got it, bro. Just peas romaine calm.”

“It’s not romaine, Sans, it’s arugula...wait. Ugh. Sans, that was terrible.”

“I thought it was pretty turnip-fic.”

“And that one was even worse. But it doesn’t matter, brother! For not even you’re terrible puns could ruin my good mood!” 

“C’mon, bro. That one was ice-burgly done. But yer right, lettuce celebrate the good news!”

“SIGH. Just shut off the alarm, peas.”

“...ayyy.”

“Please, I meant please!”

The conversation for the rest of the evening went on in much the same way. Frisk listened patiently for the skeletons to turn in for the night, hoping the shorter skeleton would retire to the above floor at a reasonable hour. The longer they had to wait for a clear shot, the more tired and hungry they would be. And they needed all the strength they had. 

They did not have anymore food and their tummy was already whining. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the taller skeleton announced that they were going to bed. 

“I’ll be right up, bro. Go ahead and get ready,” assured the other skeleton. “Got a few things to take care of first.”

“All right, but don’t doddle. We’re getting to the good part of the story! They’re finally at the castle!”

“Sure thing, Pap.” 

“Nye he he!”

The sound of the taller skeleton’s feet shuffling, the creak of stairs, a door opening and softly closing again. Silence. For a long, almost unbearable about of time. There was no sound. No hint of movement. Frisk’s hands were clasped so tightly, their nails were digging into their palms. They chewed their bottom lip anxiously. Their arms trembled. Frisk was convinced the monster knew exactly where they were and was prowling around, deathly silent as a cat, waiting for them to come out. 

When the stairs creaked again, marking the shorter skeleton’s ascent up the stairs, Frisk felt all the tension in their small frame disappear. However, they still waited. Just in case. After about an hour, they exited their nest for the last time with careful tentative steps. The downstairs was dark and quiet with the only light coming from a street lamp outside the window beside the stairs. Looking across the expanse of the living room to the dining table and beyond, Frisk could just make out the outlines of the vent. Double checking to make sure their pack was secured and the coast was clear, Frisk dashed into a mad sprint across the room.

Away from the couch and coffee table, passed the end of the rug, under the dining table, and…wait.

...what was that?

Frisk stopped, looking towards something a little ways off from their path. Laying just to the side of the table sat a small pile of colorful cereal rings, coated with white sugary powder. A few pieces sitting there, seemingly forgotten. 

Frisk gulp, their stomach giving out a loan whining groan. However, they shook the notion away. 

“It’s a trap,” Frisk said aloud. “It’s poisoned for sure.”

It did match father’s description of what poisoned food looked like. Suspiciously sitting out in the open, brightly colored, and sweet? Yup. Total trap.  
That skeleton must think they were stupid to fall for such a simple trick. With a confident smirk, Frisk walked over to the small pile of cereal. They stared at it, hands on their hips. 

“Ha! I’m not falling for your lies,” Frisk told the cereal and pointing down at the colorful rings with an accusatory wag of their finger. “I’m not stupid.”

For good measure, they kicked the pile, and several of the rings went flying. “Take that!”

And then the ground around them started to glow a bright blue. 

“Huh?!” 

Lines shot out in all directions forming an octagon under Frisk’s feet, weird numbers and symbols appearing within the lines. The air seemed to spark around them and all over, it felt like a great weight pushed down on their body. Frisk fell to their knees with a started cry as dark walls rose up all around them, coming together above their head with a metallic clink. The weight pushing them down dissipated and Frisk fell back as they tried to scramble to their feet.

They were in a cage.

“Oh no,” Frisk whimpered as a deep seeping dread washed over them. “Oh no...oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no...”

Their breath hitched as a sob escaped them. 

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, I’m so stupid!’ 

Frisk jumped to their feet and rushed to the cage walls, looking for someway out. It was made of metal, consisting of four thick metal beams and a series of thinner metal rods  
for bars. They were too close together for Frisk to wiggle through, though it was the first thing they tried. They paced about the space as their breathing quickened, faster and faster, and they began to hyperventilate. Their eyes stung as tears free flowed down their face, hands grasping at empty air uselessly. 

They’d been caught. 

They knew it had been a trap.

And yet the still...still…

And now they were gonna die. Well and truly die. 

The truth of their situation fell heavy across their shoulders and they began to sob openly. 

“No...no, please,” Frisk whimpered to the empty air. “Please...I don’t wanna die.”

They fell heavily onto the ground, all the fight and energy drained away, leaving nothing but a quivering mess of tears and quiet prayers. No longer brave, no longer...determined. 

Just a frightened, lost, little child. Who in that moment, desperately wanted their mommy. 

The stairs creaked loudly in the quiet house.

“Heh,” came a familiar voice. “Well, well, well...would’ya look at that.”

Frisk’s moist eyes looked up, meeting the small pinprick lights of the skeleton monster’s eyes through the dark. His ever present grin seemed wider, brow narrowed, and his hands resting in the pockets of a blue hoodie. He sauntered closer to the trapped Frisk, pink fuzzy slippers making the barest of noises against the wood floor.

He loomed over the cage and Frisk let out a pathetic whimper, curling into a ball as though if they just tried hard enough, they could make themselves impossibly small and just disappear. The monster bent down at the waist, a skeletal hand reaching out to pluck the cage up, boney digits grasping at metal.

Frisk’s small form quivered in the corner, breath coming in short gasping breaths. 

The cage rose higher and higher and when it stopped, Frisk dared a peak. The monsters left eyes was on fire, flashing blue and yellow in a terrifying display of magic and he gave a low chuckle, sounding far too pleased. 

“Gotcha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SNAP-! Someone's in trooooooooouble! 
> 
> Also, Sans seems to know alchemy. Who'da thunk it?


	4. I Didn't Order This.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Sans. You scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! I am so excited to post this chapter I can’t even. I had so much freakin’ fun writing this bit. Currently not edited.

“Gotcha.”

Frisk hid their face behind their hands, their sobs turning into high pitched mewling. Terror, raw and unbridled, dug at their chest as though their heart was trying to burrow out from behind their rib cage. Their mind was an incoherent mess, jumping from one thought to the next like a panicked rabbit. 

The cage tilted, sending Frisk tumbling, their arms flailing to to catch themselves. The skeleton had tucked the cage under one arm and with a jaunty whistle, ambled over to the kitchen. A move that sent new waves of horror through Frisk. But instead of tossing Frisk into a pot or baking them into a pie such as the horrified imaginings conjured up by Frisk’s mind, the skeleton just opened the fridge door, reached in, and pulled out a bottle of ketchup.

...which somehow was far, far worse.

Frisk’s mind went blank and they did the only thing that seemed appropriate. They sat down, pulling their pack from their back, and went to reach for Puddles. But the pack was empty. Puddles wasn’t there. Where was he? Had he fallen out of the pack? Despair took root in their bones and their face scrunched up against the wave of hot tears. Losing Puddles hit like a knife. Their one form of self comfort was gone. First Mama and Papa, and now Puddles. It felt like the last nail in their coffin.

...and soon they would be dead. A midnight snack for a vengeful skeleton. They buried their face into the fabric of their pack.

“...m-mommy...”

The cage jostled and Frisk could hear foot steps and the creak of wood as the Skeleton climbed the stairs, still whistling some nameless tune. It sounded like a death march. The sound of a door opening made them look up. They were in one of the upstairs bedrooms. It was sparsely furnished with a dresser, a desk with a lamp, and a mattress. Not even a proper bed, just a mattress on the floor. Wordlessly, the monster strode inside, shutting the door behind him, and made his way to the desk. He plopped the cage down lightly atop the table and turned the lamp on. Frisk winced against the sudden light and flinched as the ketchup bottle dropped down beside them.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no,” Frisk murmured, pulling the collar of their sweater over their face.   
The chair legs scrapped loudly against the floor as the skeleton pulled it out and flopped down into it with a grunt. A skeletal hand rested close to the cage, boney fingers rhythmically tapping, as though considering something. 

Frisk couldn’t look at the Monster’s face. They didn’t want to watch…

“Hmmm...” The cage lifted again and Frisk bristled, clamping their eyes shut.

This was it...this was the end…

Frisk yelped as the world turned sideways and they fell, sliding backwards into the monster’s open hand. Their pack fell to land with a quiet plop somewhere far below. A boney white thumb pinned Frisk to the monster’s palm as long phalanges rose above, curling inwards like a cage. Whatever sense of acceptance Frisk may have pretended to have shattered in that moment and they began to struggle and wiggle, kicking their feet as hard as they could. For the briefest of moments, what was left of their determination surged. They were not going to go down passively and if they ended up losing, well...they were gonna give this monster one heck of a tummy ache. And for good measure, they smacked the thumb pinned to their chest. 

“Heh heh, feisty little thing, ain’t ya?” The monster smirked at Frisk, his other hand coming up to meet one of the child’ kicking feet and snatching it delicately between two fingers. Frisk was quickly beginning to tire, their energy and determination draining away like water from a bathtub. In its absence, fear took hold again. As though waiting for the tiny child to burn themselves out, the monster’s large hands lifted Frisk up closer to his face...closer to his mouth…

‘Please, please, please,’ Frisk thought fervently, little hands grabbing onto the thumb as though their grip alone would keep them from disappearing behind those teeth. ‘I don’t wanna die! Mama! Papa! Please!!!’

“...p-please...please...” Frisk whimpered, their voice emitted in a high pitched squeak as it squeezed passed their constrictive vocal chords. “...don’t...” 

“Hm?” Small white pupils focused in on their little form. “What was that?”

“PLEASE DON’T EAT ME!” they wailed, eye clenched shut, and their voice sounding huge in the quiet, almost empty, room.

Everything fell silent for a long agonizing moment. Frisk cracked open an eye and saw the monster staring at them, one brow raised, grin widening. And then he split the air with a loud raucous belly laugh, leaning away from the desk and throwing his head back. The hand holding Frisk shifted and lowered, the thumb disappearing from their chest, and they plopped down onto the desk. Frisk attempted to scramble away, but felt the boney hand press against their back, halting their escape. They curled in on themselves, pulling their sweater over their face again, and peered over the top with wide frightened eyes. They waited to see what the skeleton would do.

The monster’s laugh dissolved into breathy chuckles. He made a motion as though wiping away a tear from his eye socket before bringing his arm to lay on the desk, lowering his head so his chin rested on the sleeve of the blue hoodie. His eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, kiddo,” replied the monster. His left eye, the same one that had looked as though it were burning with yellow and blue flames, closed in a lazy wink. 

Frisk did not move for a moment, letting the monster’s words sink in.

“Y-you’re not gonna...e-eat me?” asked Frisk, their voice small. 

The skeleton shook his head, left eye still closed. “Nope.”

“O-or squish me?” Frisk pushed back further into the palm against their back. 

“Or squish ya,” said the monster. “Scout’s honor.”

Frisk stared, their mind not entirely able to grasp what was happening. They weren’t dead. They weren’t even hurt. Just...really scared and now very confused. 

“Don’t believe me?” asked the monster. Frisk’s answer was to steal an accusatory glance at the bottle of ketchup. The monster’s eyes followed Frisk’s and his grin widened again and he laughed. “This? Heh, don’t sweat it, pal. This ain’t for you.”

To prove his point, he moved his hands away from Frisk to grasp the neck of the bottle, flicking the top open with a thumb and bringing it to his face. Frisk watched in odd fascination and a little bit of disgust as the skeleton took three long gulps from the bottle before snapping the top closed and setting it back on the desk. Purposefully out of Frisk’s line of sight. 

“I just like ketchup,” he said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair slightly. 

“...” Frisk stared, forehead wrinkled in bewilderment. “...ew.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till ya try it,” the monster replied before sitting back up, crossing his arms on the desk and resting his chin there. “Now, dietary peculiarities aside, what’s you’re story, kid?”

“Hm?” The skeleton’s hand rose up to hover over Frisk’s head, making them flinch, but all the hand seemed to be doing was highlighting Frisk’s diminutive size. 

“Why’re ya so small? Did a witch shrink ya or somethin’?”

“I-I’m not that...s-small,” retorted the child, a bubble of offense rising up through the fear. “I grew a half an inch this year!”

“So then why are you so short, short-stack?” 

“Well...why are you so tall?” Frisk shot back with a little more snark then they intended and for a moment feared they might be pushing their luck. But the skeleton’s grin never faltered. 

“Well, I gotta say, that is a first.”

Frisk pulled their sweater back over their face. “What is..?”

“Me being accused of being too tall,” he replied. “My bro is the tall one. When his growth spurt hit, it set cruise control and took a nap. Anyways. So you’re supposed to be this size, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” Frisk pulled their sweater collar back down, the fear in their belly finally beginning to quell. Maybe they weren’t going to die. That would be nice.

“Huh. Didn’t know humans came in miniature.”

Frisk made a face and tilted their head. “I’m not a Human Bean.”

“No? Then what are you?” The monster seemed genuinely curious. 

“I’m a Borrower,” Frisk replied, crossing their arms, almost as if to match the skeleton and tried to put on an air of confidence. 

“A Borrower?” asked the Skeleton. “Well, what do you borrow?”

Frisk’s confidence faltered. What a silly question, Borrowers borrow...they…uh...well…they...

“Stuff,” replied Frisk after a moment of deep contemplation. 

“Stuff.”

“Yep. Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Whatever we need to survive,” said Frisk as they tried to name some of the things they had seen father bring home. “Food, stuff, and...uh...food.”

The skeleton nodded, closing his eyes, and was silent for a moment before setting back in his chair, hands resting interlocked atop his stomach. When he opened his eyes again, they were blank, just empty black sockets. “And is breaking and entering part of that?”

All their dissipated nerves returned full force and Frisk shrank in on themselves, suddenly very much afraid. “Huh..?”

“Because, buddy, what you’re describing sounds an awful lot like stealing.” The skeleton’s voice had changed. Frisk didn’t like it. 

At all. Nope, nope, nope...

They scooting back quickly, away from the monster, afraid of what he would do. But the monster leaned towards the Borrower and in one swift motion, reached out to plant their hands behind Frisk, effectively capturing them. The monster pulled Frisk towards them, eliciting a panicked squeak from the child. This time, Frisk buried their head completely into their sweater as the foreboding sounding voice spoke above them. “And in case ya didn’t know: stealing is wrong...”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Frisk cried, quivering against the wall of bone. “I didn’t mean to!”

“...‘didn’t mean to’? Mean to what?” There was strong tug on their sweater, pulling it back down over Frisk’s head and they met the empty eye sockets of the skeleton who was much much too close for their comfort. 

“It was an accident! I fell off the truck and I couldn’t keep up and it disappeared and then I got lost and then there was a cat and cats are really scary and they eat Borrowers and I really really really didn’t wanna be eaten and I ran and hid in a bottle and they were trying to get me and they have so many TEETH and then a dog scared the cat away and then the dog tried to bury me with the bottle and there were bones and a boot so I hid in the boot, but the dog grabbed the boot and ran off and then I was in your house and I got scared and hid under the couch and I was really really hungry and I was just trying to get one fry and the whole thing fell and I didn’t mean to and then you saw me and I got really scared because Papa said Monsters eat Borrowers and I wanted to leave but it snowed and I don’t have my coat and I’m sorry! Sorryimsorryimsorryimsorry!!!”

The white pinpricks returned to the monster’s eyes as well a dumbstruck expression as Frisk’s words quickly melted into a near incoherent rant. 

“Whoa-! Take a breathe, kid, you’re turning blue- wait. Did you say you fell off a TRUCK?” 

But Frisk still continued. 

“I didn’t mean to make you mad or cause any trouble ‘cause I’m really bad a borrowing and I don’t know how to find food on my own because Papa wont teach me until I’m fourteen and I was just really really hungry and I didn’t mean to be bad and make a mess I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me I don’t wanna die!”

A moment of heavy silence followed, leaving only Frisk’s quiet whimpering. 

The Skeleton’s hands pressed against Frisk and lifted them up, cupping the small quivering ball they’d force themselves into and gently deposited them atop his belly as he leaned back in the chair. His voice was no long dark and threatening, but soft and gentle. Fingers lightly running down Frisk’s spine, trying to coax them from their ball of blubbering panic.

“Just breathe. You’re not gonna die. Didn’t I already say that? Hm?” said the monster. “Besides, I ain’t that petty. No use crying over spilled fries. Yer fine, kiddo. Deep breathes. In and out.”

Frisk uncurled slightly, their hands meeting the soft knit of the gray sweater under them. The monster smelled like ketchup and grease and something else. Bones, they decided. Their head hurt and they were exhausted and hungry and so tired of feeling like...like…

Warm air blew over them as the skeleton sighed deeply. “Ah geez. Sorry, kid. I wasn’t trying to give ya a coronary or nothin’. Sounds like you’ve had hell of a time.” 

There was a moment of silence as the fingers on their back continued their ministrations and Frisk began to feel marginally better. The sweater beneath them was soft and warm and the fingers on their back felt nice. The tension in their shoulders started to ease. 

“How old are you, bucko?”

Frisk sniffed, rubbing the sleeve of their sweater over their face. “I’m eight.”

The monster’s face shifted into an expression of surprise and almost guilt. “Eight? Geez, you’re baby-bones.”

“Not a baby,” replied Frisk tiredly.

One of the monsters fingers lightly tap Frisk on the head. “Total baby-bones.”

Frisk lifted their head to meet the white pinprick pupils above them and frowned. “I haven’t been a baby for...six years.”

One of the skeleton’s brows narrowed. “Kid, I literally have socks older than you.”

“You have old socks...”

The skeleton grinned, waving one hand in the air in mock offense. “Hey, I’ll have you know they’re not old: they’re antiques. Very collectible. Vintage stock, even. I’m just waiting for the sock stocks to climb before I cash in. I’m sittin’ on a gold mine here, kiddo.”

Frisk got the impression that there might be a joke buried somewhere under that sentence, but they didn’t get it. Grown up humor always went over their head, anyway. They pushed themselves up into a sitting position, meekly meeting the monster’s gaze. 

“I’m sorry I made such a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. Although, if you were hungry, ya could ‘a just asked.”

“Borrowers aren’t supposed to be seen,” said Frisk. “If I was any good at it, you’d never know I was there.”

He shrugged. “Can’t really believe that I wouldn’t have noticed a tiny person living under the couch.”

“Normally we live under the floors and in the walls of big people’s homes,” Frisk explained, pulling the bottom of their sweater over their knees. “But your house doesn’t have any tunnels and I don’t know how to make them. We’re not supposed to be seen.”

The monster quirked an eyebrow...or his equivalent. “And why’s that?”

“It’s the rules. If you’re seen, you have to leave.” Frisk explained, their eyes falling to stare at their lap, hands fidgeting. 

“Why? ’Cause they’ll call the cops? You got a record or something?” 

“No,” Frisk replied, wiggling a little. They had no idea what a cop was or what kind of record he was referring to. “If we’re see, we’ll be caught and if we’re caught, we’re killed.”

The skeleton was silent for a moment. His ever present grin took on a displeased edge. “You seem to have an obsession with the idea of folks wantin’ you dead, kiddo. It’s a little morbid.”

“It’s true!” Frisk replied, gesturing wildly with their arms. “If you’re seen by a Human Bean, you have to leave because then they know you’re there and if they catch you they’ll squish you o-or or put you in a jar and leave you on a shelf to rot!”

Frisk waited for the skeleton to respond, watching the odd contortions of his face as Frisk’s words sunk in. And after a moment, he said, “...did you say ‘bean’?”

That wasn’t the response Frisk had expected, but shrugged it off. “Yeah. Human Beans.”

The quizzical tilt of the Skeleton’s brow matched his tone. “You mean ‘beings’. Human beings.”

Frisk returned the look. “...no, Beans.”

“Beings.”

“Beans.”

“Beings.”

“Beans.”

“B-E-I-N-G-S.”

“B-E...uh, E...ah-no, A-N-S. Beans.”

The confused expression turned jovial and the monster’s body started shaking as a fit of giggles struck. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you- Borrowers, smaller folks like you- call Human beings: ‘Beans’…?”

Frisk tried to steady themselves as the monster’s belly shook with muted laughter. “...yes?”

The monster’s giggles increased and Frisk toppled to one side, but a boney hand reached out to help steady them. “Pfffffft….Kiddo, you just made my day.” 

“Er, you’re welcome?” Frisk replied, gripping the space between two boney fingers. “But...why is that funny?”

“Explaining a joke,” responded the Skeleton with gusty chuckles. “Just ruins it.”

It took another minute before the monster had completely composed themselves and even then, the white dots of his eyes seemed larger and his grin was wider with mirth. The hand that had been steadying Frisk pulled away and came to join it’s fellow behind the monster’s skull as they seemed to sink further into a relaxed posture. “Ya got name, kid?”

“...Frisk,” they replied. “My name is Frisk.” 

The monster pulled one of his hands out from behind his head, presenting it to Frisk, one finger expended, in a scaled down version of a handshake. Frisk reached out and took the offered finger and shook. 

“Nice to meet ya, Frisk,” said the Skeleton. “I’m Sans.”

It was then that Frisk’s stomach decided to remind them that they had eaten very little in the way of food that day. They felt their face heat with a blush. 

Sans tilted his head, regarding the little Borrower. “When did you eat last, Frisk?”

“...when I knocked over your french fries…” came the timid response. 

“Sounds about right, then,” he said. Sans scooped Frisk up and sat them carefully down on the desk before standing. “Hang tight.”

The idea of food sounded heavenly to Frisk, so they were more than a little confused when, instead of heading towards the door, Sans turned and started walking towards the wall to the left of the desk. And then disappeared. No light, no sound, just...gone. 

Frisk bolted to their feet, staring at the space where Sans had just been. Something in their brain fizzled and popped. They walked to the other end of the desk, mouth agape. 

What? WHAT?!

Frisk looked all around the room from their vantage point atop the desk, but they were the sole occupant. And they were very confused and more than a little alarmed. People, even monsters, did not just...go poof! Frisked just stared at the wall for a while, trying to figure out what had just happened. 

“How did he…?”

A pause.

“What’cha lookin’ at, kiddo?”

Frisk jumped, bristling against the sudden voice behind them, and whirled around. Sans was standing at the other end of the desk. His grin was wide and there was a mischievous glint to the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the dark. 

“What was that?” Frisk demanded. 

“What was what?”

Frisk gestured to the wall, eyes wide, and hands waving sporadically as they struggled to find the words. “You just...and then...that! Poof! And now...you’re there!”

“Think yer missing a few adjectives there, bud,” Sans said, amused. 

“Where did you go?”

“To grab ya some chow,” he replied, holding up one of the small cereal boxes from the cupboard and giving it a little jiggle. 

“But you disappeared!” Frisk said as Sans reclaimed his chair. 

“Did I?” asked the monster, ripping the top off box and dumping a small pile of cereal onto the desk.

“Yeah! How’d you do that?” Frisk asked as they walked back to their previous spot and the new pile of food. They sat down, grabbing a morsel and bringing it to their mouth, but paused. A thought struck them. “Wait….was that magic?”

Sans settled down into the chair, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. “Maybe.”

“But you can do magic, right?” Frisk asked. “That what Mama said. That Monsters could do magic.”

“Sure can,” replied Sans with a shrug, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, his left eye was glowing. Not flaming, just glowing. “S’how I caught ya, after all.”

Frisk looked away, stuffing the cereal into their mouth, and mumbling something. 

“Didn’t yer Mom also tell ya it’s not polite dinner etiquette to talk with your mouth full?”

Frisk swallowed. “You only caught me because you cheated.” 

“I didn’t cheat,” said Sans. “Like I said. Magic. Just playin’ to my strengths. Can’t help it if ya walked right into it. Literally.”

The glow in Sans eye was gone, but he sounded like as though he were enjoying himself a bit too much. Frisk just grabbed another piece of food and ate in begrudging silence. The pile of cereal that Sans had dumped had not been a small one and in truth, he had purposefully dumped more than he assumed Frisk would eat. So when Frisk finished the last piece, he was a bit taken aback. 

“Geez, Frisk,” said Sans. “Where do you put it?”

Frisk squirmed. “...I was hungry.”

“Guess so,” replied Sans and then a contemplative looked fell over the skeleton’s face. “So, I got a question for ya, Frisk.”

Frisk looked at Sans expectantly. 

“You said you fell out of a truck.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna elaborate on that a little more?”

“...Uh,” Frisk frowned, tilting their head in confusion. “What’s ‘elaborate’ mean?”

“Why did you fall out of a truck?”

“Oh,” Frisk replied in understanding. “We were moving houses.”

“And whose ‘we’?”

“Me and my folks,” Frisk explained. “We were moving houses. Or the Beans were moving and we were going with them to their new house and we were hiding in a box of towels in the back of the truck and everything got really bumpy and it was really loud and confusing and I tried to get back to my Papa because he was right there and I almost got his hand, but...I fell instead.”

“Do you know where they were going? Where the truck took your folks to?”

Frisk didn’t respond. They had devoted so much of their energy and attention to avoid being caught or eaten, that they did not have much time to really consider their parents. In that moment, they felt a hard pull on their heart, their parent’s absence feeling like a void inside them. Frisk bowed their head, feeling the prickle of tears. Finally, in a shaky voice, they said, “N-no...I...I’m lost.”

After a long moment, Sans sighed and reached into jacket, pulling out a blue handkerchief and wrapped Frisk into it. “I think that’s enough for tonight, kiddo. You’ll feel better in the morning after you’ve had a chance to rest. Besides, I’m sure it’s way passed your bedtime anyway. We’ll figure the rest out later.” 

Frisk grabbed the edges of the blue handkerchief and pulling the fabric close. “Oh, okay. So I can go back to the couch, then?”

“Nope.” Sans was on his feet, walking towards the dresser. He opened the top drawer, but immediately closed it, moving down to the second. He rummaged inside for a moment before pulling out a gray sweater like the one he was wearing under his hoodie. Hearing that they would not be returning to the couch to sleep, Frisk frowned and huddled into the warmth of the handkerchief.

“So...does that mean I have to go back in the cage?”

Sans looked up from his position near the drawers and his eyes seem to soften. “No, kiddo. You’re not going back in the cage.” 

As Frisk began to wonder where exactly they would be sleeping, Sans returned with the now folded sweater and laid it down on the right hand side of the desk. Without a warning, he plucked the little Frisk bundle into his hands before depositing the child gently atop the sweater. 

“There. Instant bed. Just add Borrower.”

Frisk looked down at the sweater and gave an experimental bounce. The sweater was soft and slightly fuzzy. It was comfy. They looked up at Sans and smiled.

“Think that’ll do?” he asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Better than the insides of that ratty old couch, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” said Sans as he reached over and turned the lamp off before sauntering over to the mattress on the floor and falling face first onto it. When he spoke, his voice was muffled. “G’night, Frisk.”

“Goodnight,” Frisk replied. “And Sans?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for not eating me.”

“Heh heh. No prob, Bob.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans never intended to hurt Frisk. He just wanted to put the fear of God in ‘em. Because you don’t mess with a guy’s french fries, kids. You just don’t. Y’know how long he waited to get those fries?! And yeah, Sans totally knew what he was doing with that ketchup bottle. He totally knew how it looked. He may be a lazy bag-o-bones, but he don’t miss much. He’s a smart guy. 
> 
> Also a reoccurring theme with Frisk some of you may have noticed: The kid loves them some food. Given the chance, they can eat their own body weight in munchies. No wonder Nornan is so good at borrowing. He’d have to be just to keep his kid fed!


	5. Your Waffle's Burning...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cinnamon roll meets the smol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some good ol’ Sans POV.

Sans awoke to the alarm of his phone going off in his pocket and groaned as he blindly reached for it. It took three or four tries to even find his pocket as he quietly cursed into the bare cushion of his mattress. Finally he managed to fish out the device and punched the snooze. 

Five minutes later, it buzzed again and Sans reluctantly pushed himself off the mattress and swiping his thumb across the screen, dismissed the alarm all together. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he stared blearily across the room, taking in his surroundings, and his eyes caught sight of the folded sweater atop his desk. Something within the slow loading boot up menu of his mind went click. 

Oh yeah. He’d caught that little french fry saboteur last night. 

Sans pushed himself up onto his feet and stretched. Grunting as his joints and several vertebrae popped, he walked the few steps to the desk and looked down. An impossibly small child lay curled up atop his sweater with his blue handkerchief wrapped around their legs, cast off blindly sometime during sleep. Sans watched in fascination as their little chest rose and fell rhythmically with each tiny breathe. 

They looked like a human, but were decidedly not so by the virtue of their diminutive size. They were something else. Something he had never heard of... 

“Borrowers, huh?” Sans said quietly to himself, feeling the edges of his mouth twitch into a soft smile. When he had first spotted them, Sans had not been entirely sure he had seen what he thought he had seen. He searched all over the living room, trying to find the creature that had dumped his tray of french fries, but to no avail and much to his annoyance. They were gone as though they had never been. But Sans knew he saw something. And that something had knocked half his lunch onto the floor! They had not been just any old burger joint fries either. 

No. 

They had been Grillby’s fries. The fire Monster had only just gotten his surface restaurant opened after having to endure years of red tape, acquisition of several permits, local government run arounds, and completing several redundant food safety certification courses. Not to mention having to find a developer willing to even work with a Monster. Finally the doors to the new location had opened and Sans had been the very first customer in line.

So when he saw the fries spilled across the floor, he had been...a little miffed. Enough that he had developed a plan and, using the time before his brother would come home from work, Sans gathered the necessary tools and got to it. He worked diligently in a silent brooding mood, fueled by irritation, but pushed the feelings away when Papyrus has came home from work so as not to worry him. There was too much to be happy about between Prop 702’s passage, Undyne and Alyphy’s recent wedding, and Grillby finally getting back to what he was good at. To show his frustration would only worry Papyrus. And prompt questions. Which would be hard to answer. He could just imagine the conversation.

‘What are you doing Sans?’

‘Oh, nothing important. Just fashioning up a trap to catch the little pest whose been running around our house spilling french fries and leaving massacred cereal boxes in their wake. Y’know. Typical Sunday evening activities.’ 

Yeah, it was best to keep quiet, Sans decided. It was a simple baited trigger set up. He drew the appropriate runes into the wood floor with his magic and armed it with a small metal cage that would snap shut once the trigger had been tripped. He then baited it with a small pile of fruit loops. The little critter seemed to like cereal if the way the Lucky Charms bag had been torn apart was any indication. 

He went upstairs and read the next chapter of the book Papyrus had been given by his employer. It was an old German fairytale about knights and jealous dukes betraying kings, kidnapped princesses, and a well meaning, but bumbling wizard. Once his brother was quietly snoozing, Sans had retreated to the hallway, leaned against wall with his eyes closed, and waited. 

About an hour later, he felt the flare of magic from downstairs and heard the snap of metal jaws shutting around its prey. His grin widened. With a spring in his step, he made his way downstairs and spotted the cage sitting in the middle of the floor. In the gloom of the room, he could just make out the small lump inside and as quiet as the room was, he could make out the little thing’s whimpers. 

They’d been caught. And they knew it. Good.

It made Sans grin wider in glee to know that they knew they were busted. His left eye was burning and he made no attempts to quell it back into neutrality. He’d taken the cage to his room for a little one on one conversation with the little perpetrator. His plan was to put a little fear into them, let them know what’s what, and then send them on their way to wherever it was they needed to go. However, it...did not go as planned. He had not considered the possibility that his target would be so young. They were tiny. Smaller than Sans first thought, fitting easily into his palm. They fought his grip of course, but ultimately it only resulted in them draining themselves into passive submission. As Sans studied them, lifting them closer to his face, he found his attention drawn to their feet. Their shoes were so damn tiny! And then his ears were filled with a terrified plea... 

Please don’t eat me. 

He found it funny at first, the idea that the little guy thought that Sans had any intentions of eating them. Ugh, gross. No thank you. Just another silly thing people believed about Monsters. Add it to the pile, it would have plenty of company. After a bit however, it became heartbreaking. The way the child stared up at him, wide eyed and terrified, pulling themselves into their little sweater as though it were magical armor.   
It all went downhill from there. 

The kid was just that. A kid. Baby bones, even. Lost and scared and thoroughly at the mercy at the Monster whose wrath they’d attracted. All because they were hungry and didn’t know any better. They trembled under his fingers as he tried to calm them down, crying for their lost parents, and making Sans feel like the world’s biggest jerk. The ire he had felt over the french fry incident dissolved into dust and left him with a deep pit of guilt in his chest. But it also left him with a burning question:

Welp. Now what?

He couldn’t just toss a tiny eight year child out into the snow with no where to go. Not after hearing just how they had come to be living under the skeleton brothers’ couch. A story about falling off of trucks, running from cats and dogs alike, and hiding from him and his brother out of fear that they would be devoured if found. 

Honestly, who was spreading these ridiculous rumors?

The best Sans could manage for the kid in that moment was to offer them a place to sleep and give a quiet moment to feel like everything was not out to get them. Seriously, the kid seemed to think that anything that moved either wanted to either kill them or have them for dinner. What an exhaustive frame of mind to be stuck in. After their conversation, Sans felt drained in more ways than one and was glad that the child had accepted the invitation for sleep so readily. He was sure the kid needed it as much as he did...

Frisk, Sans remembered then. Their name was Frisk.

Standing in front of his desk, Sans watched the Borrower child sleep, feeling a warm smile stretch him already grinning face. He untangled the handkerchief from their feet and spread it back over them. Sans decided he would let them sleep a little more while he thought of a way to tell his brother. He couldn’t keep this a secret now. Plus, maybe Papyrus would have an idea on what to do. The younger skeleton’s boundless optimism and passion always seemed to find the cracks and flaws of Sans’s pessimistic outlook. A new perspective would be good. Sans sighed, running his hand over his skull. This morning was going to be interesting to say the least. 

Frisk stirred as the blue handkerchief fell over them, their face nuzzling into the soft knit of the sweater.

“...Mama?” mumbled the small sleepy voice. 

“Sorry, kiddo,” Sans said quietly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Not Mama. Just an old bag of bones.”

They didn’t seem to hear him, though, quickly falling back into a deep sleep, and Sans took that as his chance and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He could hear sounds from the kitchen and made his way down to where he knew his brother was busy whisking up something for breakfast. 

And by the smell, Sans wagered it was waffles. Belgian waffles probably. His brother had been on a Germanic kick for the better part of a year now, bouncing between French and Chinese every so often. 

Papyrus’s employer had been a great influence on the younger skeleton brother since last Christmas when he’d been hired for the season rush, but simply ended up staying. Papyrus had bounced around several jobs since they had emerged from the underground with the latest feeling like a permanent fixture. His brother worked in a toy store in downtown Ebotton that was owned and operated by a nice German man whose family had been making toys for hundreds of years with old world puzzle boxes being his personal specialty. The store itself was considered a landmark to the town, being one of the oldest and longest running businesses in the county. So when Mr. Schultz hired Papyrus- a Monster- it got the human population’s attention. Some of it bad, but mostly positive. The last two years had seen a dramatic and positive sweep in the Monsters’ favor in regards to acceptance amongst the humans. Discriminatory zoning laws were struck down and magic restrictions were lessened. Fair pay laws were put in place and amendments to the state’s constitution recognizing Monsters as equals to Humans in the eyes of the law. Things were slowly moving at the federal level, but the local and state government had acted quickly. After all, Toriel was an amazing negotiator. And when she made her debut in Washington for the summit in a few months, well…

...things were looking quite well for Monster kind. 

As Sans stepped off the last stair and walked through the living room, he could hear his brother muttering to himself. He didn’t sound happy, which caught Sans off guard. Sans took quick stock of his possible transgressions that may have lead to driving Papyrus- sweet, patient, and passionate Papyrus- into a bad mood. 

“Mornin’, Pap,” Sans said as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, adding a thick layer of cheer to his tone. A tall stack of golden crispy waffles sat on the counter and Papyrus was pouring more batter into the small two sided hinged griddle, his focus solely on the task at hand. The taller skeleton was dressed in a burnt orange sweater and a novelty apron tied around his waist. An exaggerated illustration of a human male’s abdominal muscles adorning the front with the idea being that the wearer appeared to have rock hard abs. After the taller brother deemed the amount of batter to be sufficient, he closed the iron shut it with a little more force than may have been necessary, splattering droplets of waffle quick mix across the stove top and counter. Wordlessly, Papyrus flipped the waffle iron over onto the red hot heating element below. He stared at it, arms crossed. 

Papyrus had not bothered to even acknowledge Sans, who just watched his younger brother silently. The only movement either of them made was when Papyrus fiddled with the iron, bouncing it lightly in his hands before flipping it over and setting it back down. His arms returned to the previous crossed position across his chest, spatula in one hand. 

Sans cleared his throat. 

“So, uh...bro,” he said. “I can’t help but notice the air’s a little heavy in here... so, what’s up?”

Papyrus’s attention snapped to Sans and his eyes were narrowed. Sans was still at a complete loss as to what might have made his brother so...peeved. Sans felt his skull start to sweat and he tried to give his brother a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. He started pulling at straws...

“...still mad about the Duke winning the duel against Sir Adalgar last night?” 

“No! Well- yes,” replied Papyrus stiffly. “But the current affairs of the story is not the reason why I am currently mad at you.”

“So then…?”

Papyrus pointed his spatula at something behind Sans and he turned to look. In the spot where he had set the trap the night before, there was a noticeable scorch mark. The edged of which had the faintest outlines of magic runes. Sans hadn’t even noticed the marks before, having been too caught up in the moment perhaps. Oh boy...

Busted. 

“Oh! Yeah, about that...”

“I told you that leaving food out would attract things, Sans,” replied Papyrus, his ire now with an edge of exasperation. “I begged you to clean up after yourself. And now I find that? Did you think you could just go behind my back and pretend there wasn’t a problem? Fix it before I ever found out? I’m not stupid, I-”

Sans raised his hands, eyes widening. “Whoa there! Papyrus, I don’t think you’re stupid! That’s not it at all! I just-”

“Please, let me finish,” replied the taller skeleton. “I am just of the opinion that if you were going to try and fix the problem, burning holes into floor was not the best way to go about it. And it seems oddly out of character for you to blowing up mice! I’ve never known you to be so malicious.”

“I totally agree with you, Pap,” Sans told his brother earnestly. “But I wasn’t blowing up mice.”

Papyrus’s left brow raised. 

“Then what poor creature were you blowing up?” The tall skeleton’s face suddenly shifted from unimpressed to worried as a thought struck him. “Oh wait- it wasn’t a rat was it?”

Sans could not hide grin. 

“No, no nothing like that, bro,” Sans replied, trying to placate his brother. “I wasn’t trying to blow up anything! It was a trigger trap. I guess I may have...gone overboard on the placement.”

Papyrus’s frame suddenly relaxed and he sighed in relief. “Oh good! So you didn’t kill it. That’s a relief.”

“Yup,” replied Sans. “They’re still in one piece.”

“Did you release it outside?”

Sans rocked on the ball of his feet, giving his brother a causal smirk. “Nope.”

Papyrus stared at his brother in slight confusion. “...then where did you…?”

Sans turned his upper body and jutted a thumb back over his shoulder towards the stairs. “They’re upstairs sleeping.”

“Upstairs?”

“Yup,” Sans replied with a casual shrug. “They were pretty rattled when I caught ‘em and pretty wiped too. Gave ‘em some food and put ‘em to bed.”

Papyrus did not say anything for a long moment. Then he narrowed his brow in suspicion. “...Sans, what did you do?”

Sans grinned wider. “What I just told you.”

Papyrus waved his spatula accusingly as Sans. “You’re purposefully omitting the key a piece of information.”

“Okay, Pap. Okay,” chuckled Sans. “So I set the trap and caught something...unexpected.”

“And unexpected means…”

“They’re small, Papyrus. And when I say small, I mean...small small,” he placed his hands close to one another with just enough space between them in a rough guesstimation of how tall the Borrower child was. “Like...little. Baby-bones.” 

Papyrus was bestowing upon his brother a look of pure horror. “...Sans, you speak as though you caught a child!”

Sans made a vaguely seesaw motion with his hands. “...well...”

“Sans!”

“How about I just go get ‘em, eh?” 

“...”

Sans left his brother slack jawed in the kitchen, but backtracked enough to poke his head back around the corner, pointing towards the stove. “By the way...you’re waffle’s burning.”

“Nye? AH!”

………………………………..

 

Sans opened the door to his room and walked in to find Frisk sitting up, looking around with half open eyes, squinting against the light coming in from the window. When they spotted him, their eyes opened a little more and for a moment, Sans could see a flash of what may have been fear. Their little hands grasping the fabric of the handkerchief. 

“How’re ya feelin’, kiddo?” Sans asked as he closed the door behind him and made his way towards the desk with slow easy steps. He made sure to keep his voice soft. He didn’t need the kid freaking out in front of Papyrus. But whatever had flashed across their face was gone and their hands had released their death grip on the handkerchief, replaced with recognition and understanding.

“...m’sleepy,” Frisk replied blearily, rubbing at their eyes. 

Sans sat himself into the chair, resting his arms atop the desk, and leaned forward. “How about hungry?”

Frisk’s tired eyes opened fully and they nodded eagerly. Sans laughed, reaching out to poke Frisk’s side, earning himself a half giggle, half squeak from them as they batted at his finger. 

“How’d I guess?”

Frisk’s eyes trailed over to the box of cereal that Sans had brought them the night before, looking expectant. But Sans shook his head. 

“Nope,” he told them. “Breakfast is downstairs. My brother wants to meet you.”

And the flash of fear was back, but instead of being muted and barely perceivable, this time...it was out in full force. Frisk made an odd mewling sound before they pulled the blue fabric over their head and sank back into the sweater. Sans stared at the blue lump and sighed. 

“Aw, c’mon, buddy,” Sans said, laying a hand gently against the lump. “Don’t tell me yer scared of Papyrus. He’s...well, he’s Papyrus!”

Frisk mumbled something, but it was wholly unintelligible. 

“He’s harmless,” Sans told them. “Pap won’t hurt you. He’s too cool for that.”

“...s’really big...” came the muffled reply.

“And I’m not?” Sans asked, allowing a bit of playfulness color his tone. 

“Yeah, but...you’re nice,” Frisk replied, peeking their head out from under their blanket just enough for Sans to see their eyes.

Sans quirked a brow. He was the nice one now, huh? 

“And I’m also the guy who set a trap to catch you and ended up scaring you into a panic attack because you spilled some french fries,” he reminded them. “Papyrus is the guy downstairs making breakfast like he does every morning because he likes doing nice things for people. Because he’s a good person and the greatest brother a fella could ask for. If we’re doing a niceness comparison, kiddo, I think Papyrus wins this one.” 

“He won’t be mad, will he?” Frisk asked, pulling themselves out from the confines of the bed with careful and timid steps. Little hands gripped the bottom of their sweater. “That I made a mess and...uh, ‘broken entered’? He was yelling about messes before..and...”

Sans chuckled, reaching towards Frisk with one hand and carefully scooping them up. The kid didn’t resist. 

“Not in the least,” Sans answered with a wink. Then, he brought his hand and Frisk closer to his face-startling the Borrower a bit. Sans lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “In fact, I’ll make a prediction. Within the first five minutes, he’s gonna ask you if you want to be friends, your opinion on puzzles, and then offer you a waffle. Not necessarily in that order.”

“...uh,” Frisk didn’t look convinced. Then Sans had an idea. 

“Tell ya what, Frisk,” he said. “If you come downstairs and meet Pap, I’ll let you have the rest of that cereal.”

Frisk’s head whipped around to look at the small box sitting innocuously on the desk and then back at Sans, a certain sparkle to their eyes. All the fidgeting and nervousness was gone as though it had never been, replaced with a firm resoluteness. Determination.

“Okay.”

Sans could not hold back his laughter.

………………….

Sans was careful with Frisk as he walked down the stairs, pressing a finger to his teeth as they neared the kitchen. He cupped his hands around the child, hiding them from view. When they entered the small dining room, Papyrus was already sitting at the table, arms crossed, and looking put off. There were two plates piled high with waffles with one sitting in front of the younger skeleton brother and the other sitting at the other end of the table as well as a fresh bottle of ketchup. When Sans stepped up to the table, Papyrus’s pensive eyes looked up to meet Sans’s and then turned downward to Sans’s cupped hands questioningly. 

“Sans, I-”

“Now,” Sans stated, cutting his brother off. “Keep in mind Pap, they’re just a kid. And they’re a little nervous.”

Papyrus sighed. “So you did capture a child! Did you call their parents?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, bro,” San replied before holding his clasped hands outward and unfolding them, revealing the small form of Frisk. “Ta-da! Papyrus, this is Frisk. Frisk, this is my brother Papyrus.”

Papyrus’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. And then he didn’t say a word. Which Sans found odd and after a few moments of heavy silence, a little disconcerting. Frisk was starting to fidget, sending worried glances towards Sans. Sans cleared his throat awkwardly and gently placed Frisk onto the table, waiting for the little Borrower to be steady on their feet before moving his hands away. 

“Bro,” Sans asked. “You...you okay over there?”

“...why are they so small?” Papyrus asked. 

Sans glanced down at Frisk, but they did not look as though they wanted to answer his brother’s questions. In fact, the kid looked ready to bolt. Probably deciding that half a box of stale fruit loops wasn’t worth the anxiety. 

“They’re suppose to be that size. But, they are only eight,” Sans replied casually, trying to break the tension. “They’ve got a bit more growin’ to do I suppose.”

“...eight?”

“Yup. Like I said,” Sans said. “Baby-bones.”

That comment seemed to bring Frisk out of their anxiousness and they scrunched their face up at the skeleton. Sans just smirked at them. 

“I’m not a baby,” they insisted with such an air of finality, that Sans could not help but chuckle. Sans poked their side in the same manner as he did earlier and got close to the same reaction, a giggled squeak. There was a small sense of relief when he saw the kid smile. He hated the idea of them being afraid of them. Either of them. Especially Papyrus. No one was scared of Papyrus. Even the most rotten Humans seemed to reluctantly tolerate him. 

“Baby-bones,” Sans teased the kid with a lazy wink. Then he turned his gaze to his brother. “So, yeah.”

“Where are their parents?” Papyrus asked. “Shouldn’t we inform them they are here?”

“They’re lost, Pap,” Sans replied. “They don’t know where their folks are. Kid’s been hiding out under our couch for the past few days. Since the party.”

“What? Why?” Papyrus asked bewildered, looking to Frisk. “Why not ask us for help if you were lost? We could have helped you!”

Frisk was looking down at their feet, little brow furrowed. Sans grabbed one of the waffles sitting in front of him, squeezed some ketchup onto it, and then folded it in half. He decided to answer Papyrus’s questions. Kid didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood. “Kid though we were gonna eat ‘em.”

And then he took a bite of his ketchup waffle as though to accentuate the point. Sans wished he had a camera in that moment if only to capture the look on Papyrus’s face. 

“What?!” 

“Like I said, the kid’s had a rough few days.”

There was a moment of silence as Papyrus’s simply stared at him and then at Frisk and then back up at Sans. And then his eyes fell to Frisk one more time and stayed, the edges of his eyes sockets seeming to steal around the edges. Papyrus abruptly rose from his seat, the chair squealing behind him and strode purposefully to Sans’s side of the table. All six foot something of him stopped just to the side of Sans, but looked down at the little Borrower child. Frisk’s eyes, fearful and pleading, trailed up and up and up...and very nearly lost their footing, arms flailing out to keep them balanced. But long boney hands suddenly jutted forward scooping them up, and bringing them level to the tall monster’s face. 

Papyrus had tears in his eyes. 

“YOU POOR THING! IT MUST HAVE BEEN SO SCARY! ALL ALONE AND THINKING TWO SILLY SKELETONS WANTED TO EAT YOU! BUT WORRY NOT MY NEW LITTLE FRIEND, NOW WE CAN HELP! YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE AFRAID ANYMORE! NOW YOU HAVE THE COOLEST SKELETON THIS SIDE OF EBOTTON TO BE YOUR FRIEND!” 

And once more, Sans wished for a camera. Frisk was making the most glorious looking face. He laid back in his chair and watched his brother scream sweet nothings at the bewildered Borrower. He did up another ketchup waffle and contently munched away. 

“TELL ME, MY NEW LITTLE FRIEND,” Papyrus asked Frisk before bringing them closer to his face, voice dropping back to down a normal octave. “Do you like puzzles?”

Frisk stole a quick glance at Sans and then back to Papyrus. They timidly nodded. 

“Excellent! And how about waffles?” At the mentioning of food, Frisk nodded eagerly, a smile finally breaking onto the kid’s face. Sans just grinned. Papyrus sat Frisk back down atop the table before placing his fists at his hips, chest pushed outward. 

“THAN PREPARE YOURSELF FOR THE MOST DELICIOUS WAFFLES YOU HAVE EVER EATEN. BECAUSE THIS WILL BE YOUR FIRST VENTURE INTO THE DELIGHT THAT IS MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS’S COOKING! AND THERE ARE NO WAFFLES LIKE MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS’S WAFFLES! NYEHEHEH!”

As Papyrus turned back to the kitchen, Sans reached out and gave the little Borrower a nudge. When they turned to face him, he gave them a wink. 

“Told ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus, you precious cinnamon roll. In this story, Papyrus’s has mastered the inside voice, but when he gets excited, he starts getting loud again. He’s matured a bit since leaving the underground, but he is still very much a cinnamon roll. And his cooking has gotten a lot better, too. Everyone is very happy about this development.


End file.
